


Static on the Line

by Nynaeve



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-22
Updated: 2010-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-18 14:24:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nynaeve/pseuds/Nynaeve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Communication issues of the relational kind. Sam/Jack established, Season 9/10</p>
            </blockquote>





	Static on the Line

**Author's Note:**

> _A/N: So I don't save the world, but I do spend my day solving a lot of problems. This was born out of me fighting with my husband in my head after he asked me what I wanted to do about something. Just like he always asks me what we're going to have for dinner. Because he can't cook. But I love him and so while I could keep bitching, the truth is, then you would think he was this horrible slacker, because you never hear about how he takes care of me and loves me. It's just the way people are sometimes. Y'know?_

"You know Jack, I spend every day solving people's problems. I'd really like it if you could sort through this one instead," Sam explained into her cell as she put away groceries into cabinets that were far too small. She hate the apartment but it was too much of a pain to move to another one. Besides, she was barely there as it was.

Jack sighed on the other end. "I didn't ask you to solve it. I was...just...you know, telling you."

"No, you specifically said 'I don't know what you want to do about it,'" she recounted trying not to slam the cupboard. Damn the Ori. Damn her apartment. Damn the whole damn universe. "Do you know the Ori took over Kelowna?"

"I _am_ the head of Homeworld Security. I might have heard a rumor," he gruffed back at her.

Silence ate up the line as Sam made her way to the bedroom, kicking a laundry basket that she'd been too tired to put away sometime the week before. Damn laundry and laundry detergent, she decided.

"We couldn't get a hold of Jonas."

A pause. "I know, Sam. We've put out messages to our allies. They'll check on Kelowna - "

"- when they have time," she finished. Damn their allies. "You still want me to solve your problem don't you."

"I didn't _ask_ you to solve it. I just wanted your opinion."

"What if I don't want to give it to you," she argued, flipping on the light in her bathroom and roughly shoving some toiletries aside. "You call me for every little thing. What do I think about this car? What do I think about your new secretary? Should you eat McDonald's or Burger King?"

"Well, Burger King _is_ usually closer."

"That's not the point, Jack." Damn him. Damn him and his service dress and every damn ribbon on his jacket that was probably lying in a heap on his chair because he didn't feel like hanging it up. Damn the next time she saw him and threw her own on top of it.

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe I just want an excuse to call you?"

She froze in mid-reach for the faucet. "I'm doing it again aren't I?"

"Doing what?" he answered, although he knew damn well what she was talking about.

"I'm angry. I'm so angry. We tried...we tried to get through. Jonas would have never given in. Not to them, he saw what the Goa'uld were. He wouldn't have let his people kneel to a false god," Sam rationalized even as tears started to sting her eyes. "He would have died first."

Salty drops, one after the other started to streak down. Sinking onto the closed toilet she tried hold back the sobs that were soundlessly wracking her body. "What if he had no choice? We told him what they could do. Would it be better to live or to die? It's so easy to make the decision when you don't have to."

"Sam..." Jack whispered with a gentle ache that told her everything she needed to know.

"What the hell does it matter to stand up for a noble cause if everyone who could be inspired is dead? I was going to write him a letter and now..."

"Sam," he repeated, firmer this time, but when she didn't respond he practically barked her name. "Carter! There's nothing you could do. There's nothing anyone could do."

"I know...I know," she muttered, but nothing stemmed the tide.

"I'll figure it out."

Confusion interrupted her crying and she sniffled. "What?"

"How to get to Teal'c's grandson's bar mitzvah," he clarified, as though it were perfectly obvious.

She chuckled in spite of herself. "He's not Jewish and I think he's just a tad young."

Her laugh was mirrored by Jack. "What do I know? I'm Catholic."

"Really?"

"You didn't know that?" he asked with a hint of disbelief.

"You never mentioned anything about church."

"Well I don't _go_ , but my family was Catholic. It's like a rule or something out in Minnesota. Catholic or Lutheran. I always thought it was sort of like the Vikings versus the Packers."

"I never did get that you know."

"Of course not, but then, you also didn't get fishing. One step at a time."

Her face was dry now, although the pain her heart remained. "Thanks."

"It's what I'm here for," he responded. "Sam...I'm worried too. Just sometimes it's easier to laugh."

"I know."

"I'll figure it out."

Sam inhaled deeply, her breath wavering. "Together. _We'll_ figure it out."

"Always do," he agreed. Then he muttered a curse. "Hey, the home line is ringing. It's probably some brainiac having an existential crisis."

"I'll talk to you tomorrow if I'm not stranded somewhere," she told him, a wisp of a smile on her face. "Love you."

"Ditto, Carter."

The End.


End file.
